Page 6 of Dear Hattie

Can’t believe she left me asleep in the nap egg. Can’t believe she let me stay there with her in the first place.

Did she seem tired? It was hard to tell in the lamplight. Is she still sad about Simone? Why didn’t I ask her?

Because that’s not what you do, a voice supplies in my head, and it’s true. That’s not how Harriet Fry and I interact. We’re not friends. We’re not warm and cuddly. Monday morning was an exception, not the rule.

Normally, we’re at each other’s throats, sniping and teasing, and…

And napping, apparently. What the hell was I thinking?

My assistant jumps when I lean over the wall separating our desks. Raj’s pen clatters onto the floor, and he tries to cover his half-finished doodle of a pineapple with his elbow. Today he’s in a salmon pink polo shirt. “Um. Boss?”

“Do I have a sharpie mustache?” I pitch my voice low, beneath the hum of computers and rattle of keyboards.

Raj’s eyes widen. “Uh. No?”

“No doodles on my face?” I press. “Nothing weird about my appearance?” It would be juvenile for Harriet to draw all over me the second I fell asleep, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Our rivalry transcends social rules.

“No,” Raj says, shaking his head. “Your hair is a bit…” He mimes a tuft at the back of my head. “But otherwise you look normal.”

Normal.

I look normal.

But as I nod and sink down into my own chair, the lurid green leather creaking under my weight, I don’tfeelnormal. My world is all weird. Colors are brighter, sounds are crisp.

That beautiful witch did something to me back in the nap egg. Maybe not physically, but… inside. I’m knocked off kilter. Sleeping next to her has jumbled up all my innards.

“Harriet Fry,” I say again, like repeating her name will conjure her somehow. Where is she now? Working with someone else?Nappingwith someone else? My chest twists at the thought, and I rub my gray shirt as I frown at my blank screen.

Why do I care?

I don’t care. I don’t.

But as I jam my headphones on a few minutes later, settling in to edit another episode, deep down I know the truth.

I don’t want Harriet Fry to nap with anybody else. Don’t want her bickering with anyone else, either.

She’smine.

Four

Dear Hattie

Dear Hattie,

Is it normal to be brokenhearted when a friend breaks up with you?

Everyone always talks about romantic relationships ending, and how shitty it feels to get dumped. But here’s my hot take: when a friend dumps you, it’s worse. Because friendship is not a zero sum game, and they don’t have to miss out on other friends to pick you. It’s not you-or-them.

When a friend dumps you, they just don’t want to see you anymore. Plain and simple. And maybe everyone else feels fine about that, but personally, I feel like hot shit on a sidewalk.

How do I get over this, Hattie? And where did I go wrong? Am I the only person who takes it this badly? It’s killing me.

Ex-Bestie

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Dear Hattie,

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